


"Here Let Me Help You"

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: "Together or Not At All", Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s05e07, F/M, Internal Monologue, Prompt Fill, happy-ish ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Prompt Response: "Here Let Me Help You" + Kasinara - Kasius tries to make amends after the fight against the Destroyer of Worlds.





	"Here Let Me Help You"

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon who gave me this prompt- Thanks pal, you rock!

“Here, let me help you.” Kasius crouched down, dropping a knee to the floor beside her sprawled form.

Sinara’s eyes slid right over him to the Watchman standing at his shoulder, her glare enough to prompt the man into offering her a helping hand. She pulled herself to her feet, leaving him kneeling on the floor, continuing not to meet his eyes as she ducked around the soldier and began to make for the exit.

He straightened, moving to stop her from leaving the Crater, opening his mouth to say something, say anything to make her look at him again.

She stopped short of running into him, raising her eyes to stare out over his shoulder, she might’ve been staring at the guests or his brother in the spectator’s seats above. But she wasn’t, undoubtedly, all she wanted was not to see him.

“Move.” She said, not relenting, not pushing him or dodging him. Her voice was soft, as though she was tired, but betrayed no other emotion.

“Sinara, I—”

“I need a medic.” She said, her eyes finally meeting his, containing so much anger and hurt that he wished she hadn’t looked at all. “So do you.”

_________

His servants fixed up the wound well enough, he hadn’t wanted to steal the medic’s attention when others had been injured in the attack— namely, Sinara, who had several fractured ribs and abrasions from the fight with the Destroyer.

And yet, here she stood, quietly at his side facing Faulnak, awaiting her orders, as though nothing were the matter. She offered no reaction as Faulnak hurled insults at the both of them and ordered him about.

“Bring any human weaponry you possess, Maston finds it unfair hunting primitives with anything but their own, primitive armaments.”

Sinara’s eyes flicked towards him, questioning yet unfeeling.

Panic was building in his chest, a result of their argument, of Faulnak’s presence, of his mistakes. He needed a moment to think.

He nodded, catching her look of contempt as she stalked away, mocking and scolding him for his weakness. Though the concern such just gestures usually came with was gone.

He barely registered the rest of Faulnak’s words and meaningful glances, to busy forming a plan to decide what any of it meant.

_______

 

“Our?” Sinara had met him in the hallway.

All right, he’d stood in the hallway where he knew she’d be until she showed up and acted as though something important was going on. With luck, she was curious enough to not walk the other way.

Though, it didn’t mean the conversation as going well.

Well, he could fight fire with fire, if he provoked her into an argument, she’d talk.

“Don’t be dramatic.”

Sinara didn’t engage. “He gives the orders now, no?”

When he had nothing to say to that, she pushed past him, forcing him to scramble to keep up with her.

“You’re resentful because I allowed him to throw you in the Crater, well look at you, no worse for wear, you held your own against the Destroyer of Worlds, as I knew you would.” Flattery it was then. “Your strength has never let me down. And now I ask for you to lend it to me once again.”

He continued to speak, though he wasn’t sure of what. The fear in his mind momentarily preventing all logical thought.

Sinara stared back, stared _down,_  at him, her eyes flat and unsympathetic to his flattery, to his rationalizations.

He knew, of course, nothing would make it better, nothing he was saying, not the fact that he had the inhibitor or the prophecy. The failure was maddening.

She was standing a step above him, stare unwavering. “You’re begging, it’s repulsive.”

_________

 

“My own.”

_Damn it, Sinara._ He could not for the life of him understand what she was playing at.

Faulnak paced away from them, shaking his head. It was all he could do not to turn and run at the notion. And he wasn’t sure either of them could stop whatever Faulnak brought down on Sinara as a consequence.

Then, Faulnak began to laugh, turning back towards his second with an approving smile. “Holding your own against the Destroyer of Worlds, felling my own best warrior. It seems I underestimated you and your desire to climb higher in the ranks. Within which I now have an opening…”

Faulnak continued talking, in a low, almost calming voice, stalking close to Sinara with every word. But for her part, Sinara was hardly giving Faulnak the time of day. Her eyes flickering between him and Faulnak, some challenge in her eyes.

_Oh, she was clever_.

Maston was her gesture to him, opening herself up to grave consequences that he could prevent. Or he could allow, depending on which side he took, theirs, or his fathers.

He selected a weapon from the table.

____

“You shouldn’t have asked me to do that,” Sinara said, finally tearing her eyes away from Faulnak’s corpse.

“I should say the same to you.”

Sinara’s expression twisted into a smirk as she met his eyes. “Like you said, this is better.”

“I am sorry. I —” He began, not quite sure of where he would end the thought. And explanation or a declaration, or something

“Don’t.” Sinara pulled one of her hands from his and brought it to his face. The side that he hadn’t impulsively smeared blood on, but the stuff on their hands ended up their nonetheless. “I’m tired of your talking.”

“But,”

“I know.”

So instead, he dropped her hands, catching her waist and her shoulders and pulling her against him. Her hand slide over the back of his neck, pulling him closer, her free hand reached up, smearing the blood off his cheek. The kiss was fierce, not a battle, but a gesture that held all the aggression of their conversations. A gesture that left them breathless.

“Better than talking.” He muttered, leaning down, touching his forehead to hers.

_“Shhhh,”_

She was already pulling him closer, pushing him back, and the rest hardly seemed to matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
